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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236146">I am? (You are.) I am.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sipsthytea/pseuds/Sipsthytea'>Sipsthytea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Witcher and the Bard [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Based on a Conan Gray, Based on a Tumblr Post, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hes kind of an idiot, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, I will say that, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Song fic, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, but It’s ok, but with short hair, hes the best kind of idiot, no beta we go down like cintra, ok, so geralt, they're just dumb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:28:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sipsthytea/pseuds/Sipsthytea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh,” Jaskier muttered, eyes locking with the floor, “You - You gave her your jacket?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just a leather jacket,” the other muttered, folding his books beneath his arm. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” the brunette laughed dryly, grip tightening on the straps, “Just a stupid jacket.”</p><p> </p><p>But it wasn’t. </p><p> </p><p>It was so much more than that.</p><p> </p><p>Or: a fic based off of Conan Gray’s “Heather“</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Witcher and the Bard [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I am? (You are.) I am.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Welcome, I hope you enjoy this, I really like how this fic turned out, so, hopefully you enjoy it.</p><p>{Edit: Geralt’s POV is up:) It’s called “You are. (I am.) you always have been.”}</p><p>I recommend listening to “Heather” by Conan Gray while reading, it was the inspiration and is a really good song.</p><p>(This begins when they’re freshman)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jaskier remembers it so clearly, the memory so vivid in his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers the smell of the rain as it fell around him, soft pitter-patter splashing against the dark pavement. It was dim, the sun hidden behind clouds of darkness. A cool breeze creeping up his arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. The air was damp and muggy, heavy on his skin. Moisture causing his hair to flatten on his head, much to his annoyance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he also remembers the warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It stood beside him, strong and unyielding, silent and awkward. Hands fidgeting with the necklace that sat heavily against his chest, eyes darting from Jaskier to the pavement, then back to Jaskier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers the stiff cough and the muffled, “Here,” followed by a soft object being pushed into his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stared at the stranger, eyebrows shot up, “You’re giving me your...jacket?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stranger let out a grunt, turning away sharply, a deep hue rising to his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Jaskier breathed, fingers pulling at the leather. It was much too big for him, and it didn’t look very warm, but this stranger tried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My names Julian, but everyone just calls me Jaskier,” He said brightly, turning to the other, a smile on his lips. He held out his hand, slicing through the awkward tension. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier?” The stranger gruffed, crossing his arms, “That’s quite different from ‘Julian’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small laugh left Jaskier’s lips, hand not faltering, “Well, I took Polish in eighth grade and my teacher gave me the name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s it mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Directly, it means buttercup, but it can also mean dandelion,” he answered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stranger finally shook his hand, warm grasp enclosing around Jaskier, “Geralt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to meet you, Geralt,” the brunette replied, retracting his hand and reaching for the straps of his backpack and guitar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gently set them both down, keeping them safely away from the wet spots on the pavement. Making quick work of the jacket, he noticed the way it draped of his figure. Sleeves passing his fingertips, hem brushing by his upper thighs.  A smell wafted towards his nose, pine, mint, and rain. The scent was fresh and musky, expanding in Jaskier’s lungs gently. It made his head spin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sing?” Geralt questioned, eyes trained on the guitar case by his feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jaskier said sheepishly, “I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you good?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Geralt,” the brunette laughed, reaching down to recollect his things, “I’d like to think so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you are,” the other mumbled, hands digging into the pockets of his dark jeans, hair falling over his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dark blush rose to Jaskier’s cheeks, turning to look at Geralt. His breath left his lungs, he saw the boy before, but he’d never </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>him before. Tall, maybe about 6 foot, dark, brooding and mysterious, and handsome. He had silver hair, dyed probably, cut short, an undercut. His eyes were intense, deep honey filled with flakes of grey. Jaskier wasn’t even sure that was humanly possible, but here it was. Geralt with the beautiful, inhuman eyes, a rough voice, and a leather jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he built the words back on his tongue, a car pulled into the lot. With a screech it came to an abrupt stop, another man poked his head out, a scowl on his lips, “Hurry up, asshat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tugging his backpack strap, Geralt walked towards the car, grunting lowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wait!” Jaskier stuttered out, pulling the jacket from his shoulders, “Here, don’t forget your jacket-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just give it to me tomorrow,” Geralt said, turning to the brunette with a small smile, “It’s cold, don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched as Geralt slid into the car, turning back to him with a wave. His blush darkened, fingers clutching onto the jacket between them. With a smile, he sipped it back on, body relaxing as the unfamiliar weight settled back on his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he breathed, “You can’t do this to me…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He caught his lips in his teeth, worrying at the skin, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>make me fall in love with him...my heart can’t take that shit…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fell in love with Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so very painstakingly simple. He’d fallen for the stranger that gave him a leather jacket on a cold day because he’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fell in love with this giant oaf who has these inhumane eyes, smells like a damn tree, and is so very beautiful. And god he fell so hard, so very hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t all his fault, it </span>
  <b>really </b>
  <span>wasn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How is Jaskier supposed to not fall in love when Geralt is...Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How is he supposed to not fall in love with him when he introduces Jaskier to his cat Roach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is Roach,” Geralt said, holding a dark-haired cat in his arms, fingers absentmindedly running through its fur. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cat looked up at Jaskier lazily, lead preening towards her owner’s touch, “How old is she?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other responded quickly with the smallest curl of his lip, “She’s about 4 years old.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Jaskier brought his hand closer to the feline, fingertips grazing over her soft fur. The cat gave an approving meow and burrowed further into the brunette’s touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s very cute,” he remarked, a smile pulling on his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier trailed his gaze upward, hand faltering on the cat when he found Geralt staring directly at him. Intense gaze trained on the brunette's face, “Yeah...she is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is Jaskier just supposed to not fall in love with Geralt when Geralt constantly gives him that damn leather jacket? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Jaskier tried, he tried giving it back, but Geralt always found a way to get it back to him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know your first period’s cold.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It looks better on you anyway.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t need it today, just hold on to it for me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’ll rain today and I know you didn’t bring your umbrella.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re wearing short sleeves when it’s 30 degrees outside? Really? Here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That bastard always found away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one of those rare days when both Jaskier and Geralt were free in the afternoon. Being sophomores was a lot harder than it had any right to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them were sprawled out across Geralt’s bed, textbooks popped open in front of them. They muttered under their breath, calculating sums in their heads, debating over DBQ’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This sucks,” Jaskier sighed out, a hand slipping down his face as he stared into the depths of his chemistry book. Stupid atoms, stupid bodily functions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt let out a simple hum, silently flipping through his HG-AP book, eyebrows furrowing. They hated doing work, but they found that doing it together, or at least in the presence of the other, helped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A comfortable veil of silence fell between them. Save for the whirr of Geralt’s ceiling fan and the occasional slide of the pages. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, it was Geralt who broke the silence first, “Jaskier,” he called. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Geralt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at your wrist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brunette faltered, face morphing into one of confusion, “My wrist?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffed, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, “Never mind, it’s stupid…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No!” Jaskier quickly flipped his arms, staring down into the pale skin of his forearms, “Here, what now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt went silent, reaching out to ghost a finger over the skin, “The blood flowing through your veins contains hemoglobin, a protein that has four iron atoms incorporated into its structure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier didn’t dare breathe, watching intently as Geralt traced his finger across the veins. His touch caused the brunette to shiver, face heating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Iron is naturally produced in only one place,” he continued, eyes transfixed on the other’s skin, “It can only be forged in the core of dying stars.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked up, meeting Jaskier’s gaze. His honey eyes were soft and kind, silver flakes swimming in the pools to form an emotion Jaskier had never seen before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re made of stardust, Jaskier,” he whispered, fingers curling around the brunette’s wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are,” He confirmed. His grip was gentle, enough pressure to alert Jaskier that he was there, but not enough to spook him away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I am</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so easy to fall in love with Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There really wasn’t anything to it. He’d look at you with those eyes of his and hand you his jacket. That’s it, you were a </span>
  <b>goner</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s how </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt too apparently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So did he. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt was in love, but it wasn’t with Jaskier. Yennefer, her name was Yennefer. She was tall and beautiful, smart and strong. What was there not to like?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Jaskier there was plenty, but it began with that damn leather jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was December 3. How did he know? It had been exactly three years since the two friends met. They’d gone through freshman, sophomore, and now, Junior year together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that’s also why it hurt so badly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No jacket today?” Jaskier commented absentmindedly, fingers picking at his backpack strap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn’t answer him, giving him a small grunt. His eyes were fixated on the entrance of the school, neck craning to spot someone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looking for someone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another grunt, farther away than the last. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier saw her answer, so did half of the school. A confident stride, raven hair swept away from her face, intense eyes, surly contacts, scanned the halls. She smiled when she spotted Geralt, hands reaching up to run her palms across the jacket on her shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> jacket on her shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Jaskier muttered, eyes locking with the floor, “You - You gave her your jacket?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a leather jacket,” the other muttered, folding his books beneath his arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” the brunette laughed dryly, grip tightening on the straps, “Just a stupid jacket.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it </span>
  <b>wasn’t</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so much more than that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From then on, Yennefer became a permanent staple. She was everywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long flowing raven hair flowing behind her, sharp eyebrows, intense eyes. She was perfect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It made Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Geralt was no better. He practically worshiped the ground she walked on, eyes always bright whenever she was around. He always had that barely-there curl of his lips when she was around. It was driving Jaskier crazy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was it about her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, besides her stunning eyes, gorgeous figure, incredible intellect, sharp wit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok</span>
  </em>
  <span>, maybe it was everything about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what was it about her that made </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt </span>
  </em>
  <span>so interested?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a while, Jaskier assumed that he wasn’t. He assumed that Geralt just liked her company, that he simply enjoyed being around her. He was a loner, for sure, but even they enjoy company from time to time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t last long though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not when he arrived at Geralt’s house for their usual study days a little late, only about 15 minutes and found her car outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not when he crept towards his door, fingers ghosting over the frame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not when he hears their laughs and Geralt say, “Yennefer, look at your wrists.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My wrists?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said breathlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier could see it, pale fingers tracing the outline of her veins gently. Honey pools staring so intensely at her skin, kindness and admiration in that stare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier backed away from the door, tears forming a lump in his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The blood flowing through your veins contains hemoglobin-” Geralt began, voice soft, hardly above a whisper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jaskier didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to hear Geralt tell someone else they were made of stardust, he didn’t want to hear her response of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I am?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t want to hear his confirmation of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘You are.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <b>couldn’t </b>
  <span>hear it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t live through it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They faded away after that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were no more early morning meetings in front of their lockers, no more cheating off of each other’s homework, there were no more talks of stardust. There were no more leather jackets and pine, no more intense gazes, and chopped silver hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There just wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>______</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s first open mike was a scary one. He was shaking, fingers trembling around the neck of the guitar. His head spun, breathing ragged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his hands, the paper rattled, words and feelings infused with ink. This wasn’t just another song, this was Jaskier’s soul. And...and maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d</span>
  </em>
  <span> be there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two hadn’t really had any more interactions after that incident at Geralt’s house. Not that Geralt knew why, but maybe what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please give a warm welcome to Jaskier,” the M.C announced, cutting him from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swallowing his nerves, he steps onto the elevated platform, bright light shining in his eyes. There are about 70 eyes watching him, all gazing at him expectantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he speaks, wincing at the way his voice cracks, “My name’s Jaskier. The song I’m going to sing today is one I wrote last year,” he explains, pulling the guitar onto his lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wooden stool beneath him creaks a bit, legs shifting as he adjusts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wrote it because I loved someone who didn’t love me,” he lets out a dry laugh, grateful for the spotlight blocking his vision, “Haven’t we all been there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He earns a few laughs, so he quickly shifts, redying his fingers above the cords. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The familiar music calms his nerves, drenching the anxiety building in his stomach with pure musicality. Working its way through his fingertips and into his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I still remember the third of December</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only if you knew how much I liked you,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I watch your eyes as she walks by,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lyrics fall from his lips, stained in bitter memories. No one here will know who it is he’s talking about, he made sure of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What a sight for sore eyes,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Brighter than the blue sky</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s got you mesmerized</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>While I die,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hates the way he can remember seeing Geralt watch Yennefer for the first time. The way his heart sunk to the bottom of his body, falling past his feet. The pain that surged through him when he saw the barely-there curl of Geralt’s lip, the way those honey eyes analyzed her every move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would you ever kiss me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not even half as pretty</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You gave her your sweater?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s just polyester’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But you like her better</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I were Heather,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers the day that leather jacket was dumbed down to nothing more than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>leather jacket</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That same leather jacket Geralt gave to Jaskier, a stranger at the time. The same leather jacket Jaskier always had, Geralt always made sure he had it. Always. The bastard found a way or he made a way. But then, it stopped being </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>leather jacket and just </span>
  <b>a </b>
  <span>leather jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Watch as she stands with her holding your hand</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Put your arm ‘round her shoulder</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I’m growing colder</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But how could I hate her?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s such an angel, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But then again, kinda wish she were dead,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so painstakingly true, the way Geralt looked at Yennefer was the way Jaskier wanted to be looked at. But Jaskier could take it, he could take losing the jacket, losing the place beside him, losing the afternoon study days, but he couldn’t stand to lose the stardust. He couldn’t stand to lose the one thing Geralt whispered to him, voice low, almost as if he was bearing his soul. He couldn’t lose the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one time</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt looked at him like he held the sun in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>hands, as if the world spun because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like he </span>
  <b>was </b>
  <span>the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurt too much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the chorus goes on, Jaskier feels eyes burning into him. Not gazing upon him, no, these eyes are searing into him. Intense gaze locked onto Jaskier as he sings, pouring his heart out to strangers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would you ever kiss me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not even half as pretty,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You gave her your sweater’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s just polyester’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wish I were…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finishes with a few last strums of his guitar, the sound traveling through the quiet space. The words that leave him feeling like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, something that gave him a newfound source of tranquility. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hastily slides off the stood, bowing at the applause that erupts around him. Some sweat begins to bead on his forehead, but he smiles, waving out into the crowd. Pulling his guitar closer, he walks off stage, thanking those that compliment him. As he walks through the small shop, that searing gaze doesn’t leave him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Annoyed, he quickly sweeps the room. Blue eyes grazing over everyone, finding most indulged in vivid conversation, laughing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Most </span>
  </em>
  <span>were indulged in conversation. Except </span>
  <b>him</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, it’s him. He found a way to show up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those serious honey eyes, flakes of grey sharpening, silver hair framing his face. He’s really let it grow out this year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stiffens, unsure what to do under his friend’s (?) gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turns out he doesn’t have to do much because Geralt is walking towards him, leather jacket stretched over his broad shoulders. He gently takes hold of Jaskier’s hand, warmth surging through the brunette’s palm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt leads them out of the shop, the brisk night air rushing around Jaskier. The breeze leaves goosebumps in its wake, the air was damp and muggy. It clung to the brunette, hair laying flat against his forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stand in silence. Geralt shoving his hands into his pockets, feet scuffing against the ground. Jaskier knows that he’s trying to find the right words to say and is failing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you disappear?” He asks finally, voice small and hurt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The singer doesn’t respond right away, picking at the skin of his lips, “I left because you didn’t need me anymore…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt opens his mouth but snaps it shut. His eyes dart around, hands reaching out. His warmth radiates from his palms, causing a shiver to run through Jaskier. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re standing close, tips of their shoes brushing against each other. But Jaskier knows, he </span>
  <b>knows </b>
  <span>that they couldn’t be farther apart. He knows that Geralt is with Yennefer, that he’s enticed by her violet eyes, he’s absorbed with telling her she’s stardust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows and yet he can’t help but wish that he wasn’t. He wants Geralt with him here and now. He wants him to step forward, cup his cheeks, and kiss him. He wants his leather jacket to be </span>
  <b>that </b>
  <span>leather jacket again. He wants to be stardust in Geralt’s eyes. He wants it so badly he thinks he might explode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I not need you?” Geralt breathes, moving closer. Those honey pools are soft, smoothed over by an emotion he can’t quite read. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I not want you, Jaskier?” He asks again, moving closer still. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you, I always have,” he’s leaning in, closing the gap between the two of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stands there, body yearning for him to close the rest of the gap, to tie the two of them together at last, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings a hand up, pressing his palm to Geralt’s lips, “You need Yennefer,” Jaskier corrects, “You need Yennefer, not me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Geralt falters before a barely-there curl of his lips show, “Jaskier,” he whispers, “Look at your wrists.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows where this is going and yet, he still stutters out a small, breathless, “M-My wrists?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does as told, exposing the skin to the other, pulse racing just beneath it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The blood flowing through your veins contains hemoglobin,” he begins, tracing a light finger over Jaskier’s wrist. His touch is soft, scared almost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A protein that has four iron atoms incorporated into its structure,” he continues, voice kind, “Iron is naturally only produced in one place: In the core of dying stars.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt trails off, bringing his face closer to Jaskier’s skin. He lays a small kiss there, whispering into his skin, eyes locked onto the brunettes, “You’re made of stardust.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am?” Jaskier breathes, blush rising to his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, the other rises, hands slipping to the singer’s hips. He pulls them closer, their chest gently colliding. “You are,” he promises, lips pushing against Jaskier’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier slips his eyes shut, reaching up to hold Geralt. The kiss is so much more than that, so much more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Jaskier confirms when they pull away, breathless and oh so in love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffs out a laugh, lips curling upward to reveal a smile. Not a barely-there curl of his lip, but a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I know that I had a lot of fun writing this:) </p><p>Don’t be shy, leave me a comment:)) it can be about anything, your thoughts, corrections, or things you’d like to read next.</p><p>(psa: Comments keep me motivated and inspired. They help me know that my work is being seen and enjoyed by others, so, please leave a comment🥺💞)</p><p>THANK YOU!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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